


I (Don't) Want You To Stay

by takupaku



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: ... so just angst i guess?, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Demonhunter AU, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Switching, Záos is in denial and things get bittersweet as fuck, angst with a happy ending but the happy ending doesnt happen here, but know that i'm a sappy bastard and would never let these two be unhappy for long, i got no idea what to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 17:58:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15712209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takupaku/pseuds/takupaku
Summary: Záos wasn't supposed to fall for someone he was destined to kill. Although to be fair, Kiros wasn't supposed to be so attractive and charming either. And he is notin love- he just has a soft spot, that's all. But they've been playing cat and mouse for months and it's slowly slipping into a dangerous territory - as if demons themselves weren't already just that -, so now he must do something about it before it's too late.He doesn't consider that it just might be too late already.(A little surprise birthday present for@Zelynxia, so happy birthday darling<3)ref pics if anyone else decided to read this ->Záos/Kiros (@ Zelynxia)





	I (Don't) Want You To Stay

Out of all the times Záos had fucked up, nothing could top this fuck uppery.

  
Not even the time he accidentally set his boss' chair on fire. Nor the time he slept with one of Queen Jennah's guards and almost got them exiled in the process. Nor the time he broke an asura gate, and almost got shot by the angry mechanican. The list goes on. He swears he's cursed by some unknown entity because trouble seemed to follow him everywhere he went, althought to be fair, a good 40% of the scenarios could have been avoided if he wouldn't be, well, _Záos_ \- but the point stands still.

  
And yet, nothing could surpass  _this_.

  
Despite all things, Záos isn't naive. He fully expected to be physically attracted to people he shouldn't be after he became a hunter; he wasn't blind and wasn't about to deny his desires even if it would be impossible - or, you know, extremely immoral - to act on them ( _"That Vampire Lord might be the prettiest thing I've seen all week but should I fuck them? Probably not. Most definitely not."_ ), and it's nothing that he hasn't already dealt with in the past. His possible attraction towards his contracts usually got forgotten when he had to fight for his life anyway so he never really gave it much thought before. He didn't need to. But this... this was beyond ignoring.

  
Záos sighs to himself as the clamour of the bar forces him to become aware of his surroundings again. A group of norn are laughing loudly, clashing their mugs together before bursting into a song. A few humans and a charr join them, and Záos orders another ale because he's way too sober for this. Normally he probably would have joined too and bought all of them a round, but now he can barely even enjoy his own drink. He isn't used to being in conflict with his own desires, with himself. He isn't used to this guilt he has, gnawing inside him. He wishes it to be something he should have experienced a long time ago; wishes it to be guilt of fraternizing with the enemy, but he knows it isn't. He didn't feel guilty when it was just that. He didn't even feel guilty when he first fucked said enemy, although he should have. It had all been just stupid fun, playing with fire for the hell of it because Záos apparently lacked the self-preservation and common sense most people had, and for a while he even told himself that it was all in the name of science, getting more information because as rare as they were, there wasn't much known of incubi, barely anything at all, despite the Order being around for decades. Even fae were more known than them, and fae were a fucking mystery with a big M.

  
But this? He couldn't even use the ''for science'' excuse anymore.

  
Záos sighs again, staring into his half-empty mug. This particular ale was his favorite; he'd only seen it been served around this region, strong mead with a pinch of cinnamon and something else he couldn't quite place - apparently a "secret ingredient" that the bartenders never gave up. But now it's just making him feel ill. He drowns his drink anyway because again, he's way too sober for this shit. He grimaces to himself as he puts the empty mug away, wondering if he should go for a third despite his nausea. Anything to keep himself distracted - and tipsy enough not to think.

  
He doesn't have time to decide before he feels the slight change in the air. His skin prickles with electricity, so faint a normal person would miss it - but a hunter would not. His throat gets a little dry as the familiar feeling hits him, warm and light, and yet he shivers at the sensation.

  
_He's here._

  
Because he's expecting it, Záos doesn't flinch when a warm hand touches his back, just a brief caress before it's gone, and a man steps into his view. He doesn't turn around because he doesn't need to. Záos follows the man with his eyes, feeling himself tense up just at the mere sight of him. His beautiful blond hair is tied to a high ponytail as for usual, and the man raises his hand to move some fallen strands from his face as he goes up on the counter, beckoning the barista. He has the audacity to lean against his elbows, pushing his hips back in display and Záos can feel his fingers curl into a fist because he was certain the man was just doing it on purpose, the fucker. He has that damned charming smile on his lips as he chats with the young woman tending the bar but he doesn't spare a single glance at Záos. Again, he doesn't need to. He knows Záos is watching his every move.

  
The blond drops a bag of coins on the table with a wink, and Záos can spot the barista's face flush in deep red. Couldn't blame her, he supposes. Záos taps his fingers against the hard wood of the table, his eyes still following the man as he slowly leans back, gives the flustered barista a little wave and turns around towards the set of stairs at the back of the bar where the private rooms were located. His hips sway ever-so-slightly as he walks, and Záos taps the table a little harder.

  
He waits exactly seven minutes before standing up and walking after the man. They've been playing this game for months now and it has become so familiar it almost terrifies Záos. They never talk in public. They never indicate they know each other in public. They change the location every time because neither of them want to draw attention to themselves, and regular habits would do just that. Záos always waits for seven minutes before following - and those seven minutes are agonizing every time. He can feel his muscles get more and more tense by each rolling minute, and the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach grow hotter as he counts the time in his head.

  
It's so familiar, and yet so different this time. Because now he has an unfamiliar tightness in his chest and guilt eating away at him, making him feel almost nauseous. And yet he follows the step of stairs without even fully realizing what he's doing. It's subliminal at this point.

  
When he enters the hallway the tightness in his chest becomes stronger, almost unbearable. He grits his teeth as he scans the doors presented in front of him. There are nine rooms in the hallway, and Záos walks to the farthest one - yet another familiar part of the game. The door of room nine is slightly open, and Záos' hand hovers over the handle. He hesitates. Not part of the game. He feels nervousness he hasn't felt before. He's always vigilant with the blond because he has to be, but never nervous. Never like this.

  
Before he can think too much Záos wraps his fingers around the handle and pulls the door open, stepping into the room. He closes it by leaning against it, and turns his attention to the man in the room.

And for a moment, the tightness in his chest fades.

  
Kiros is sitting on the side of the bed with a knowing smirk playing on his lips. He's wearing a white dress shirt, half of it buttoned open - half left because he knows Záos likes to undress him. His legs are slightly parted, the tight fabric of his pants clinging to his skin not leaving anything to imagination. He's still in his human disguise, but Záos knows he'll drop it eventually. Still-blue eyes look up at him as the man rises from the bed, slowly walking towards him. His leather boots squeak against the floor as Kiros stops on his tracks, leaving a slight distance between them. Close enough for Zàos to pull him against him if he wanted to. _When_ he wants to.

  
"Hey there."

  
He could never grow tired of that voice. Once he even joked that Kiros must be at least half siren because he could get anyone do _anything_ with his voice. Kiros had found that amusing.

Záos hates how easily he smirks back. Hates how it's more soft than teasing at this point. "Hey."

  
Kiros' smirks softens for a moment too - and so the tightness in his chest comes back. Hits him like a kick in the stomach. It's almost too much, almost makes him just barge out of the room and run away and never look back, but to his luck Kiros distracts him by pushing against him, his hands going behind Zàos' head so he can pull him into a kiss. Kiros' lips taste like honey and Záos can't help but to lean closer, his insticts getting the better of him. His other hand cups the blond's jaw so he can deepen the kiss, and when Kiros' tongue rolls against his the taste of him becomes so _overwhelming_ Zàos can't help but to moan, his free hand going around the demon's hips. He can feel the creature smirk against the kiss, but he's going to let that slide. He feels Kiros' hands drop from the back of his neck to his shirt, fingers curling against the fabric. He pushes on, trapping Záos between himself and the door and it makes a thrill run down Záos' spine. Knowing how strong this delicate, beautiful creature was never failed to excite him. He wasn't exactly scrawny, but anyone who didn't know better would probably underestimate his strength because of his appearance. A deadly mistake. Zàos knows Kiros could just snap his neck if he wanted to. Rip his intestines out if he wanted to. It should scare him, but all it does is make him shiver.

  
When they break apart to breathe, Záos finds himself staring at the other. Kiros' eyes are slowly turning, the piercing blue retreating under golden yellow, brighter than his hair. His lips are parted, his tongue rolling out to wet them. Even without direct contact he can feel Kiros' skin warming up, his own cool skin hypersensitive to the change. There's that knowing smirk on his lips again as he tilts his head, looking back at the sylvari. Záos feels himself swallow.

  
_'By the Pale Tree he's beautiful'_ , he thinks. _'He shouldn't be this beautiful.'_

  
His throat feels tight again, like all the air suddenly got sucked out of his lungs. His forgotten guilt finds its way back to the pit of his stomach.

He can't do this. He wants to. He wants so bad, but he can't. He wants to the point he feels like he might do something he will later regret - but he can't. He can't have this.

  
His face must be like an open book because Kiros' smirk slowly drops and he frowns at him, almost looking... _worried_?

  
"Záos?"

 

A rare occasion where the creature actually calls him by his name. Zàos' stomach twists tighter and he feels like he's going to be sick.

  
"Are you alright?"

  
No. No, he's not. Not by a long shot. He can't even bring himself to say anything. He just stares, his eyes darting between Kiros' own and the floor.

  
"You need to leave."

  
His panic just lets it slip out.

  
Záos wonders how pathetic and guilty he must look and sound because Kiros immediately purses his lips into a thin line, his posture tensing. He takes a careful step back, putting some distance between them. Wary. Kiros doesn't need a weapon to kill him but he can still spot him glancing at a pair of scissors resting on a drawer next to them. Záos sighs, putting his palms up in surrender. "I'm not here to kill you."

  
Kiros' piercing eyes dart from the scissors to the door behind them, so Zàos adds, just to be sure: "No one is coming to kill you either. Just..."

If he was human he'd be worried for his heart, because the tightness in his chest has become unbearable. It feels like someone stole the air straight out of his lungs again because he has to fight to get the words out, his mouth opening and closing helplessly, panic growing inside him. "Please just leave."

  
"Záos, what--"

  
Záos has to cut him off because the tone in Kiros' voice has changed from wary back to worried and he can't deal with it, not now, not ever, it's too much. "I won't follow you. I won't send anyone after you. I will tell my boss the contract has been fulfilled. But you leave, and you don't come back."

  
He doesn't want to say any of it. But he has to. He will have time to dwell on self-hate later. He has to do this now, or he won't ever be able to.

  
Záos makes the mistake of locking eyes with Kiros. The frown is gone, replaced by a look of pure _hurt_ and confusion and anger and --- fuck, Záos can't take it. His gaze drops to the floor in defeat. He wishes Kiros would just grab the damn scissors and try to kill him because he'd rather fight for his life than risk pouring his heart out like this. Risk breaking his heart. But he has to. He has to.

  
He jumps when he feels a warm palm press against his chest. He looks back up to Kiros, whose face has turned unreadable. His eyes dart from Záos' face to his own hand, his fingers flexing against Záos' chest. Time seems to stop between them. Kiros' gaze is searching for something and Záos wants to tear his eyes away but he can't. He wants to say something but he can't. But in the end he doesn't have to. He likes to pride himself with knowing that he's hard to read but in front of Kiros he's like an open book. The yellow eyes widen in shock and Zàos knows it must mirror his own expression. Kiros pulls his hand away like it's been burned.

  
_He knows_. And that's somehow much, much worse than Kiros thinking it's because Záos was finally going to do his duty.

  
"I'm not in love with you", he blurts, because he isn't. He has a soft spot. But a soft spot is making him vulnerable. Vulnerable to _falling in love_ and he can't take that risk. "But I don't want to kill you. And I will eventually have to if you stay. So just-"

Záos takes a deep breath. He hates how hoarse his own voice sounds. "Just leave. Please."

 

  
Kiros is just frozen to the spot. Záos can see him put on a mask, his face becoming carefully emotionless, but his eyes remain hard, mixed with a thousand different emotions Záos doesn't dare to analyze further. _Just go_ , he thinks. _Don't say anything and just go_. He doesn't know if he's just seeing things or if Kiros' eyes actually get glassy. Unshed angry tears. Must be his imagination because he blinks once and it's gone.

  
He can't take the silence anymore. Zàos turns, about to rush out of the room himself but Kiros stops him. Curls his hand around Záos' arm, tight. Desperate. Záos doesn't look back at him, his hand hovering over the door handle - just like before. Hesitation.

 

_Please don't say anything. I won't be able to deny you._

  
He's not in love.

  
He's not.

  
He wants to believe it.

 

  
Kiros tugs at his arm, gentle. Silently asking Záos to look at him. Záos wishes he wouldn't turn so easily, but he does. He swallows, his throat tight. Kiros' mask is gone. His brows are furrowed and he looks like he has to fight the next words out of his mouth through great difficulty - just like Záos had. He doesn't look Záos in the eyes when he says "Alright."

It's the answer he wanted. And didn't want, at the same time.

  
Kiros clears his throat, trying to fight back his usual composure. He looks back up to Záos, his voice more firm now. "I'll leave."

  
Záos lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Out of defeat or relief, that he doesn't know either. Despite the words neither of them move. Kiros' fingers are still curled around his forearm but the grip is less tight. Záos wonders if he's hesitating as well. He opens his mouth but no words come out first. What could he even say? He should just leave. He should have left a long time ago.

  
"Kiros, I--" what Záos started turns into a startled gasp when suddenly those hot lips press against his own again. Záos blinks rapidly as Kiros cups his face with both hands and kisses him with passion he hasn't felt from him before. It's deep, it's desperate, and it caught Záos so off guard that when he finally remembers to answer it Kiros is already pulling away. His lips want to follow, and Záos barely manages to restrain himself before they do. Kiros stays close to him, foreheads almost touching. He stares at Záos' chest for a moment, clearly mulling something over before those determined eyes rise to his level again.

  
"I'll leave tomorrow," Kiros says. There's a slight hitch in his voice that Záos barely catches. "I already paid for the room." It's a lousy excuse and they both know it, but neither of them voice it. Záos knows he should decline because he knows that if he will give in, he's going to be in much deeper shit than he already is. And he already is knee-deep in. But Záos was never smart in these things now was he. He knows the more time he spends around Kiros, the less he wants him to leave. But he can't help himself.

 

He's not in love.

  
That's what he keeps telling himself.

 

  
Kiros leaning into another desperate kiss seals the deal. His taste in his mouth, his touch on his skin, and all the thoughts about leaving get thrown out of the window. As if a switch in his head had just been flipped, he finally gives in; all that's left in his thoughts is Kiros himself. And Kiros wants him to stay, too. He's almost begging him to, wordlessly, lips moving against his own in a heated battle. Kiros' hands find their way in Záos' hair and he cards his fingers through the soft strands, tugging gently. Záos makes a muffled sound against the kiss and he grabs the demon's hips once more, squeezing like his life depended on it. He flips them around and presses Kiros against the door, deepening the kiss further. Kiros' mouth opens so beautifully under his own as their tongues meet, the sweet taste of him stronger than ever. Zàos' hands leave Kiros' hips for a moment and explore under his shirt, feeling up his hot skin. Kiros just shivers against him in response and pulls Záos closer to him, trapping himself between the hunter and the door. Zàos' thumb swipes over Kiros' nipple and the creature moans softly, breaking the kiss in the process. Záos uses the opportunity to latch on the other's neck, sucking gently as he keeps teasing his nipples until the demon squirms under his touch. It was adorable how sensitive he could be, Záos thinks as he mouths Kiros' jaw, slowly coming back to his lips.

 

Shit, he was going to miss this.  
He didn't want to admit that to himself.

 

Kiros' lips are eager against his when he suddenly leans forward, pushing Záos back without breaking the kiss. They're both breathless already but neither want to pull away from each other, just kissing and kissing and kissing, only sharing a few seconds of hot air between each. Kiros keeps pushing until the back of Záos' legs hit the bed, and then he's pushed on it, Kiros following right behind. The creature crawls on top of him and doesn't waste any time in sealing their lips back together again. Normally Záos would have probably thrown in a tease, _"Would have liked to fuck you against that door"_ , or something but now he can only bring himself to moan into Kiros' mouth, feeling almost lightheaded. The heat, the sweet taste of him, it was almost too much. It was dizzying and addicting, like a drug. _Fucking incubis_.

  
Even though the reason for his light-headiness wasn't that simple, now was it.

  
Zàos starts to fumble with Kiros' shirt, hurried fingers unbuttoning it down and revealing that smooth chest and beautifully perked nipples. Kiros pulls away just enough to shrug the clothing off himself and Záos uses this opportunity to admire the body he had just uncovered. Kiros is breathing heavily, his ribcage heaving up and down, skin already glistening with hints of sweat. He's beautiful. Záos wants to tell him so but before he can even register the thought Kiros goes for his shirt as well, pulling the tunic off and throwing it on the floor. Záos thanks the whatever deity was watching that he didn't wear his armor today because he wants to get out of his clothes as soon as possible, and Kiros seemed to have the same idea. That was at least until the man leans back, both of his legs around Záos' thighs and when Záos tries to follow a hand on his chest stops him. He looks up at Kiros and his throat goes dry at the sight. Kiros' eyebrows furrow as he closes his eyes, finally dropping the rest of his disguise. Záos swallows thickly, already feeling his dick twitch inside his pants when Kiros tilts his head, moaning softly as the familiar horns start growing back. The tip of his ears turn sharper and the beautiful golden markings start running up his body, circling and setting around his skin, covering the familiar spaces. It's a perfect fit for the shade of his skin and for a moment the markings glow, almost resembling the way sylvari do, and Záos wonders if it's he reason he likes them so much, the familiarity of them. When Kiros opens his eyes his pupils are slit like a cat's, and he gives Zàos a familiar grin - which turns soft quicker than it should but Záos is too mesmerized to pay it much thought. It's quite a sight. A sight that should knock him back to reality but all it does is make him desire this creature even more.

  
Kiros doesn't stop him this time when he leans forward and touches one of the horns on his temple. The creature makes sound that's almost like a purr, tilting his head to the touch. Craving. Záos presses an unusually gentle kiss at the base of the horn and Kiros shivers, turning his head so he can capture Záos' lips once more. The kiss is shorter than the previous ones but not any less heated, and Záos finally starts to lose the last rips of his self-control.

  
"You're beautiful", he murmurs against Kiros' lips, his words slightly slurred. He frowns to himself as if he could not believe it. "Fuck, you're so gorgeous."

  
Kiros just _melts_ against him. There's a soft sound coming from his mouth that drowns into the second kiss and Záos just wants to keep saying it, wants to tell it against Kiros' skin over and over again because it was true. It was unreal how beautiful this creature was. He knows incubus are creations of pure lust and attraction, but Kiros was something else. There was just something about him that made Záos feel like he would do anything for him - and it terrified the shit out of him. Before his mind can slip into panic mode again Kiros pulls away, distracting him. And then there's a strong hand on his chest again, shoving hard until Záos' back hits the bed. He stares, eyes wide in surprise as Kiros lays on top of him, chest against chest, his waist pressing down tighter and _fuck_ , the friction against his dick was going to drive him mad before he even could get out of his pants.

  
Kiros just stares at him with heated, half-lidded eyes. He licks his lips and Zàos can feel his face grow warm under the intense attention, but it was nothing compared to the heat he feels when the creature actually opens his mouth.

  
"I want to have you", he whispers, just mere inches away from Záos' lips. Kiros' hands are firm against Záos' arms, pressing him against the bedding and Záos' dick twitches helplessly in his pants. He's so distracted by that voice, that sweet, that goddamn _too hot to be true_ voice that it takes a few seconds for his brain to register the meaning behind the words. And when he finally does he's terribly, _terribly_ aware of how hot his face gets.

  
"Oh..." he says stupidly because at this point all the blood (sap) from his head is in his fucking dick and coherent sentences aren't something he's capable of producing at the moment. Kiros just laughs softly and kisses him, and Záos doesn't know if it's intentional but the grip on his arms tighten, and the mere thought of getting dominated for once is suddenly so exhilarating Záos feels like he's going to die if Kiros just doesn't get on with it and get them both naked.

  
"Will you let me have you?" Kiros' words are partly muffled against the kiss, but Záos catches them easily. He feels himself shiver as he lets his head toy with the thought, heat spreading all over him. It was nothing new to him, but he had never let the demon fuck _him_ before. And Kiros hadn't really expressed any interest towards it either. Or maybe he had but Záos just didn't catch it. Or maybe Kiros knew Záos was used to being on top, so to speak, and thus never voiced his desires. Záos doesn't even know himself how he would have reacted if Kiros would have asked this in the past - but now, there was no way he would be saying no to this.

  
"Yes", he finally answers and Kiros makes a sound so sinful against his lips that it takes him all his self-control not to just flip them around and make Kiros repeat it. Kiros' hands waste no time as they dive lower, gripping the fabric of his pants so he can pull them off with enough strength that Záos is surprised the seams remain intact before the clothing is abandoned on the floor with the rest. Záos' hands go for Kiros' belt, his motions just as heated as his, and a few curses and many, many kisses later they both are finally fully naked, their bodies curling against each other. The contact of Záos' cooler skin makes Kiros shiver and moan right into the hunter's mouth, his hand setting on Záos' chest and scraping his nails down on it. Záos bites Kiros' lips in response and earns a breathy chuckle out of the creature as he pulls away, giving both of them a chance to catch their breaths. His hand idly rubs Záos' chest, feeling him up. Záos licks his lips and rests his head against the pillow when Kiros slides back, setting between his legs. The strong grip on his thighs forcing his legs apart makes his throat go tight, the familiar, embarrassed heat creeping up on his skin again. As Kiros gets comfortable between his legs Zàos leans on his elbows, clearing his throat. He starts to shift, his body curling to the side "Do you want me to--"

  
Kiros interrupts him before he can finish. "No."

  
His eyes are so, so hungry as they stare down at Záos, taking in every single detail, the shape of his body and the flush on his face. "Like this. I want to see you."

  
_He's going to be the fucking death of me_ , Zàos thinks, helpless, way too aware of how bright and hot his face has gotten.

  
As if sensing his inner monologue Kiros smirks softly. He doesn't say anything but his eyes tell enough, that michevious glint showing how much he was enjoying the little teasing. It was only fair, Záos supposes, considering the times the situation had been reversed, but it didn't help with the heat on his face one bit. Luckily for him Kiros distracts him with another kiss, this one slower than the last, and Záos melts against him, draping his arm around Kiros' shoulders to pull him closer. His hand finds its way into Kiros' hair again but this time his touches are soft, just merely carding through the blond locks and marveling how soft they were. He briefly wonders if it's an incubus thing, or just a Kiros thing. He wouldn't be surprised in either case.

  
Something cool and wet touches his inner thigh, making Záos jolt slightly. He can feel Kiros smiling against his lips and Záos resists the urge to sigh - of course the creature would just conjure magical lubricant on his fingers instead of using the normal stuff. Typical - but handy nonetheless. Záos tries not to tense when those wet fingers explore lower and Kiros' other hand moves his legs further apart, exposing more of him. Then the bastard breaks the kiss at the same time his fingers press against Záos' entrance, just to hear that broken, quiet gasp that slips out against his will. It almost shocks Záos just how sensitive he was already. How his body instantly presses against those fingers, begging them to enter. And Kiros gives him just that.

  
Záos almost expected him to tease more, get his revenge, but instead the first finger presses in quickly and his body tenses up, heavy breath getting stuck in his throat. Kiros is watching him, eyes dark with desire, mouth slightly open as he studies Záos' face, looking for any signs of discomfort as he starts to thrust in. He leans close, his mouth hovering above Záos', but he doesn't kiss him. He wants to watch, and the realization makes Zàos' face burn hotter. It's been a while, but his body seems to remember this because after each gentle prod he can feel the tension gradually dissolving, leaving behind just heat and desire. Kiros takes this as a sign to add another finger and Záos' eyes flutter shut, his head pressing against the bedding with a sharp " _fuck_..."

  
Kiros chuckles, soft. He twists his fingers, angling them up to look for Záos' sweet spot - and it must be an incubus thing because he finds it immediately. The tips of his fingers brush against it and Záos' body jolts again, chasing for the pressure. He bites his lower lip to keep himself quiet but Kiros' fingers have terrifying accuracy; brushing against him just right, just deep enough, motions slow but harsh, dragging the most out of the feeling. Hot lips press against his cheek as Kiros continues to pepper small, slow kisses on his cheek and Zàos tilts his head, allowing better access. Those lips slide on his jaw and neck, tongue flicking against the skin between kisses and the fingers inside him twist harder, making Záos suck in a quick breath. Kiros presses his lips under Záos' ear, his breathing almost as uneven as Záos' own - and fuck if that doesn't make him feel hot all over. Knowing how much the creature enjoyed this, despite Záos being the receiving end of pleasure, was perfectly thrilling.

  
The fingers twist inside him with ease, no longer meeting any resistance, all tension completely replaced with raw need of more, more, _more_. When Kiros stops to rub only against his prostate Záos lets out the loudest moan so far, his toes curling and ears burning. He can feel Kiros smile against his skin. Záos curls his hand on the back of Kiros' neck and drags him back to his lips, shutting the other up by kissing him before he can even say anything - because Záos just knows he was going to. He thinks it's enough distraction to keep the blond from teasing him - but it turns out it only fuels Kiros' desire to do so.

  
He sounds almost amused when he says "Who knew that the oh-so feared hunter could be so adorable when he's embarrassed."

  
_This fucker._

  
"Oh, very funny", Záos tries to keep his voice steady but fails miserably, his breath hitching. Another twist and his back arches with a moan and Záos has to close his eyes for a moment to regain some composure. The hot pool in his stomach is creeping further, making his breaths get stuck in his throat and his dick is already weeping with precome, smearing against his stomach. It's almost embarrassing how worked up he is after such a short time, how desperate he is becoming. How desperate he was already. His body keeps pressing back to Kiros' fingers with the intent of dragging him as deep as possible, but it's not enough. Záos pulls Kiros back down into an open-mouthed kiss, and groans against his lips "just fuck me already."

  
Kiros exhales against Záos' lips, the sound soft, almost like a moan. He can feel the demon's dick twitch against him and fuck if it isn't the hottest thing Záos has experienced in a while. That and the look Kiros is giving him. Those half-lidded yellow eyes are staring at him with such hunger and need that it almost feels unreal. Somewhere in the middle of that lust is a certain kind of softness, almost fond, and it creates a painful pang in Záos' chest. He doesn't know if he deserves to be looked at like this - especially by Kiros.

  
Záos wonders if his eyes mirror the same type of fondness because suddenly Kiros is kissing him again, one hand cupping Záos' jaw as his fingers retreat, making Záos flinch slightly. He is left feeling empty and aching but the kiss distracts him from vocalizing his complains. He blinks slowly when Kiros suddenly jolts against him with a soft, broken moan, and when he sneaks a look down he feels his dick twitch again - Kiros was conjuring more of that magic lube, spreading it around his cock, his hips pushing shallowly against his own hand. It's a sight Záos could watch for the rest of his days. He's pretty sure he could come just from looking at Kiros. The show ends too quickly for his liking but he doesn't have time to dread on it because Kiros is grabbing his hips and pulling him closer, and Záos' head hits the bed when he feels the tip of Kiros' dick against his ass. The moan that rumbles from his chest breaks halfway when the demon starts to push in, and Záos hands go around the creature's shoulders again, his nails digging into the hot skin.

  
" _Fuck_.." he murmurs, burying his head in the crook of Kiros' neck. The slight burn of pain of being so filled makes him feel hot all over, his chest heaving hard against Kiros'. Kiros doesn't move right away but let's him adjust, tilting his head just enough to pepper little kisses on the side of Zàos' face. His hands sets on Záos' hips, fingers flexing and gripping tight. Almost possessive. The thought makes Zàos' face flush even hotter.

  
Then Kiros makes an experimental thrust against him and Záos clings to him harder, his moan just as broken as his last one. The mix of pain and pleasure is making his head spin and his cock twitch desperately against his stomach, begging for attention. Slight burn or not, it's a lot duller than Záos expected it to be, considering it's been a while since he did this - and he briefly wonders if Kiros' magic had something to do with it. Kiros thrusts into him again, so agonizingly slow and yet so, so deep, burying himself into the tight, hot heat until Záos is practically shaking against him. Then he pauses for a few seconds before pulling back almost completely - and then slamming back in, _hard_. The wet slap of it is almost as loud as Záos' exhale so Kiros repeats it, again, and again, setting his own pace. Záos can't do much else except hold on, his hips quickly adapting to Kiros' harsh pace, meeting him in the middle. With each thrust the pleasure pushes past the pain, the contrast becoming more and more clear until there's nothing else except the breathtaking thrill that leaves Záos desperately clutching Kiros' shoulders.

  
Kiros is making these soft, sweet noises that are going to drive Záos crazy. His fingers are digging into his skin, sharp nails surely drawing blood but Záos doesn't find the energy to care. All he feels is the thrill of it. He half-yelps, half-moans when Kiros lifts his hips up, the new position allowing his dick to slide even deeper and Záos' eyes roll to the back of his skull, his head hitting the bed once more.

  
_"Záos."_

  
Kiros' voice forces him to look at him and the sight manages to steal his breath away. Kiros' eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth hanging open as he keeps thrusting into him with enough force that Záos has to let go of the man's shoulders and grip the bedpost behind him in order to keep himself still. Kiros repeats his name, like a plea. Záos can't even bring himself to answer, too mesmerized by the sight of him. He wants to reach out and touch, he wants to put his lips on Kiros, anywhere on Kiros, he wants to whisper sweet nothings into his skin, he wants it all. He wants Kiros so bad he almost feels dizzy. This time he doesn't even wonder if it's just incubus magic. He knows it's just Kiros.

  
Kiros' thrusts slow down when he reaches for Záos and grabs his arm, firm and yet oddly soft. Záos' sap-lacking brain allows him only to blink slowly at the blond as he places Záos' hand on his chest, resting right above his heart. He holds it there, his fingers loosely wrapped around Zàos' wrist. For a moment, even in this form, he looks... incredibly human. Those dark eyes filled with lust get clouded with something else for a moment, the expression so strong Záos feels that familiar painful pang in his chest again. When he finally realizes the symbolism behind the gesture his eyes go wide, and Kiros smiles at him. It's painful, it's sad and it's fond at the same time. Záos opens his mouth but no words come out.

 

 

_He knows._

_For he feels it too._

_'He really is going to be the death of me.'_

 

 

The moment is broken by Kiros' dick brushing against his prostate, the pressure so sudden and harsh it makes Záos almost choke, his eyes squeezing shut. Next thing he feels is Kiros leaning in to kiss him again, fingers still wrapped around his wrist, now pressing his arm against the bedding. Kiros swallows Záos' moans greedily, his pace quickening. The only thing louder than their breathing is the harsh slaps of skin against skin and the lewd, wet sounds coming from below. Záos can actually feel something sticky dripping out of him and the feeling and _the sound of it_ is so arousing and embarrassing at the same time he feels like he's going to die.

  
"How much magic did you use..." he sputters against Kiros' lips, his words barely audible. Kiros gives him a breathy chuckle, thrusting in harder and faster just to make Zàos squirm.

"I do love it when you're so wet for me."

His voice is a lot deeper than it usually is and Zàos is willing to bet that he has never been this flustered in all of his life before, his cheeks glowing bright blue.

  
"That's my line", he tries but it comes out pretty pathetic, his voice breaking just at the wrong time. Kiros just smiles at him, teasing. He fixes his grip on Záos' hips and goes back to his earlier pace, hips snapping forward with increasing speed. Every thrust is so shallow they leave Záos clutching the bedpost with quivering fingers, his other arm still trapped under Kiros' own. He gives his arm an experimental tug and the way Kiros just presses him down harder makes a thrill run down his spine. Drunk with lust he leans up, latching his lips on Kiros' neck, licking and biting and kissing everywhere his mouth can reach and the sounds Kiros makes as response are unbelievably arousing, soft purrs of pleasure. Záos marks Kiros' neck with his teeth, leaving purple bruises behind that would surely fade away after just a few hours, and Záos finds himself wishing they wouldn't. He wishes they would stay.

  
Another tilt of hips and Kiros' dick brushes against his sweet spot again - but this time Kiros keeps the angle so every shallow thrust reaches it, and Záos exhales sharply against the marks he left on the other's neck, his body tensing like a violin string pulled too tight.

  
"Oh fuck--" his voice is softly slurred, eyes screwing shut under the pleasure. His chest heaves hard with his quick breathing, words stuck in his throat when Kiros' just thrust harder in response, adamant to make Záos lose himself to it. " _Kiros_..."

  
Kiros might have stolen his breath away with his hips but the feeling is nothing compared to how tight Záos' chest gets when Kiros' fingers suddenly move up from his wrist, and there's a second of hesitation before they entwine with his own, holding him tight against he bed. Záos' throat goes dry. Kiros is so close, pressed so tightly against him Záos can feel how rapidly his heart is beating, and if he didn't know better he would be worried it would beat itself out of his chest. His forehead rests on Záos' shoulder and this close Záos can hear every moan, every breath he takes, hot lips brushing against his skin with every sound. Overwhemled by it all he squeezes Kiros' hand just as tight, almost like a plea. For what, he doesn't know. Or does not want to admit.

  
He can feel the heat boil up in his stomach, spreading rapidly and Kiros must notice because he leans to seal their lips together again, dragging his cock in and out of Záos with enough force it's almost painful - but Záos loves every second of it, both his body and mind completely lost to it. Half-muffled pleads drown against the kiss, _"harder, harder, **more** ,_" and Kiros is saying something in a language he doesn't know, whispering words into his mouth like prayers of his own. He squeezes Kiros' hand harder when he finally comes, light-blue come smearing all over his own stomach. He feels lightheaded and dizzy and so, so hot he thinks he's going to pass out for a moment. He can hear Kiros' sharp inhale and then he jolts against him, and feeling him come inside him makes Zàos shiver. Kiros collapses onto him, breathing heavily and tucking his face back to the crook of Záos' neck. Their fingers are still entwined and Zàos doesn't have the energy to do anything about it - and nor does Kiros.

  
They stay there for a while, too lazy to move yet, both catching their breaths. Záos slowly blinks up at the ceiling. For once, he feels calm. He knows it won't last, he can feel the panic waiting for him around the corner but for just one moment he wants to cherish this. The feeling of Kiros' curled against his chest like he belonged there, hot breath hitting his skin and fingers latched together. The muffled clamor of the bar a reminder of the rest of the world being unaware of them. He wants to cherish it when he still has it. Because tomorrow, it will be gone. Kiros will leave and they will never see each other again. It shouldn't make him feel like he's going to choke.  

 

  
_And ah, there it goes. Hello, panic._

_That didn't take long._

  
As if sensing this Kiros pulls back slightly, just enough so he can look at Záos. And Záos must look just as pathetic as earlier because Kiros sighs quietly, but his eyes remain soft. Soft and sad - and fuck, Záos doesn't want to see them like that. He knew there was no way he could have this, and then leave feeling content. He knew he was going to feel like absolute crap again as soon as Kiros wasn't distracting him with his dick. But fuck, it still hurts.

  
Kiros cups his face, his thumb softly brushing across Záos cheek. It's so uncharacteristically gentle, and it sure doesn't help with the tightness that's creeping back to his chest. Záos sighs softly and tilts his head against Kiros' hand. Just for a little longer. He wants to pretend just for a little longer - that this is something they could have, something normal. But it's not. 

  
His hand is warm, just like the rest of him. Kiros gives him a small smile, and Zàos gives him another back without even thinking about it. Záos covers Kiros' hand with his own, keeping it there. Just for a little longer.

  
And so they stay like that for a while. Until Kiros cups his face with both hands - and then they're kissing again. This time it's slow, as if they had all the time in the world, which ironically was very far away from the thruth. But they both want to pretend. As the kisses slowly get more heated and Záos flips them around he can feel the whole world disappear from around him again. There's just Kiros, and only Kiros.

 

 

This time Kiros gets on his lap and rides his cock with such grace it knocks the breath out of Záos again - which seemed to be a recurring theme with the blond. Záos wants to curse him - but how could he? He does anyway, with a teasing smile, tells Kiros just how " _ridiculously beautiful_ " he was and Kiros just laughs against his mouth, his hips working harder. And Záos worships his body, touching and kissing everywhere he can, dragging as many beautiful sounds out of Kiros as he can. His fingers wrap around Kiros' cock and the demon just shakes against him, whispering his name over and over again like a plea until he's coming, his back curving beautifully, hips flush against Záos' hand. Záos follows right behind, burying himself into that tight heat, his second orgasm making him even more lightheaded than before and fuck, Kiros really was going to be the death of him.

 

No, he _definitely was_ because even after Záos' countless " _There's only so much my mortal dick can take_ " Kiros manages to persuade him into a third round. Záos had tried to reason with him that _even he_ wasn't able to come three times in one night but Kiros just gives him an unimpressed look and murmurs a spell as his eyes light up brighter and -- yes, incubus magic sure was handy. But it still was going to kill him, he swore on it.

 

Miraculously though, he doesn't die. He's just very, very exhausted by the end of it, desperately trying to catch his breath as Kiros curls next to him, the tip of his horns poking his neck. Zàos just wants to get up and take a bath but he's pretty sure not even an army of ogres would make him move right now. He briefly wonders if that was Kiros' intent all along, exhaust him to the point he can't leave even if he wanted to. The thought is amusing and sad at the same time. Mostly sad. But Záos forces the thoughts aside, not wanting to ruin it for the second time.

  
Kiros nudges his jaw with his nose. His hand is resting on Záos' chest, fingers idly tracing invisible shapes against his skin. Záos wants to say something because the silence and lack of distraction lets the panic draw in again but -- what could he even say? Anything he would normally say would just be... inappropriate, and the thought is ironic because Záos rarely cared about what was appropriate and what was not. So, for once in his life he is speechless.

  
Kiros seems to be, too. He's very quiet, not having said a word since their second round. His breathing gets even a lot quicker than Záos' but Záos figures Kiros had his genes to thank for that. He's still radiating with heat though, his body temperature a stark contrast against his own. Záos thinks he will miss it. 

 

 

"Stay."

  
Kiros' voice is so quiet Záos almost misses it. He blinks and tilts his head enough to catch Kiros' face. Kiros doesn't look back at him.

  
"What?" Záos doesn't know why his own voice is so quiet as well, like they're sharing secrets. Even if, in a way they were.

  
"Please stay. For the night."

  
Kiros' fingers have stopped, his hand now just resting on Záos chest. His body has gotten more tense, like he doesn't dare to move. Like moving would make Záos leave. That thought alone makes Záos' chest hurt.

  
Truth to be told - and common sense forgotten - he already was going to. Maybe pretend to fall asleep so he didn't have to be the one to leave, giving Kiros the opportunity to part without making it more painful than it already was. But hearing Kiros ask for it wasn't something he had prepared himself for. Nor his heart. Figuratively, since he technically didn't have one. But the feeling is still genuine.

  
Kiros' relief is painfully visible when Záos turns slightly, his hand carefully sliding into Kiros' hair, fingers gentle against his scalp, and says "Alright."

  
Kiros just nudges closer to him, draping his arm around Zàos' waist and tucking himself close to his neck, careful not to poke him with his horns this time. Zàos strokes his hair without even realizing what he's doing, and the way Kiros just curls against his hand feels so right it hurts. The heavy weight in his chest won't go away, and Zàos is actually thankful Kiros' face is currently tucked away because he's terrified his expression is just as painful as he feels.

 

When did he start caring so deeply for this creature, he wonders.

 

He lies there for what feels like hours, Kiros' breathing soft next to his ear. And when he finally starts to drift to sleep, hand still in Kiros' hair, he dreams about running away with him.

**Author's Note:**

> and then they actually DO run away together because my sappy ass can't take angst.
> 
> i hope you liked it <3 i was actually super terrified of posting this but i'm kinda proud that i actually did ;;; because i have only published a fic once in my life before and that was...... back in 2009??? oh boy... feels like another life.
> 
> if anyone else ended up reading this fic, then uh, hello! and thank you! Just so you know, I actually never thought I was going to publish this, it was just going to be a gift (but then i realized a fic this long would be a pain to post on tumblr so ao3 felt like the best option) so there might have been some things that might not make much sense to anyone else, like headcanons and other stuff i didn't address, plus I didn't really spend time describing either of these characters or their backgrounds because like i said, i thought it was just gonna be a gift to someone who already knows these characters/hcs so didn't see a reason for it at the time, but anyway! I hope it wasn't too terrible, i have 0 faith in myself when it comes to writing,,,, 
> 
> if you want to follow me on tumblr --> https://ghostly-infusion.tumblr.com/


End file.
